


Sometimes Your Stupid Dad Deserves A Gift Too

by WiggityFresh



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, I love Lancelot and I think he deserves something good ok, Short, happy holidays!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiggityFresh/pseuds/WiggityFresh
Summary: Mash gives her Dad(s) a Christmas gift.That's about it.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. A Gift for a Berserker

'This was a bad idea', Mash thought. For two reasons. For one, she wasn't even sure if Sir Lancelot celebrated Christmas, and secondly, the Sir Lancelot she was giving her present to barely had a sense of self. This hadn't even been her idea in the first place. Her Senpai had pushed her into doing this, saying that this was the season for giving, and that they were already swamped with present ideas for the other Servants as they worked alongside the Santas, so she could at the very least do the two that were related to her. It was actually very interesting how quickly had latched on to the Servants in Chaldea. She knew Dr. Roman was Jewish, and a great deal of Servants were far from 'Christian' in any capacity. Perhaps the idea of 'goodwill' transcended the religious barrier?

No, it was the presents. They were all definitely in it for the presents. Luckily the Santa's had the magic to make gifts, because the amount of available department stores were... practically nonexistent. 

Putting her thoughts on the holiday aside, she found Lancelot staring outside the window to the Chaldea Observatory, not sure what he was staring at, but it seemed... wistful, in a way.

She stared at the Berserker with a sense of pity. While the 'Saber' incarnation of the 'legendary' Sir Lancelot welled up feelings from her Heroic Spirit more akin to blatant disdain and aggression, the Berserker incarnation didn't seem to create those negative feelings, moreso drawing a sense of pity. 

For once, his helmet was off. Seeing the Berserker's face was a rare occurrence, and not exactly a pleasant one either. His eyes were shadowed by dark, heavy bags, and his mouth was locked into either a pensive frown or a frightening scowl. Sir Lancelot was raised as a child of the fae, and was heralded as an attractive and handsome knight in his prime, but now- as a Servant stricken with madness, his intense features were twisted and sleeked with sweat, his hair long and unkempt, and 

She sighed, tapping the large, long box in her hands once more. Giving a gift to a Berserker was... well, the effectiveness mostly seemed to hinge on the level of recorded Madness Enhancement. Sure, you could give Heracles some sort of ornate music box detailing his many legends, but the odds of it ending up in splinters or used as a weapon itself was a 50-50 chance. 

"Sir Lancelot?" She called out. Like a wild beast, Lancelot's gaze snapped towards her. His eyes seemed unfocused, wild and feral, as if she would be torn to shreds if she made any sudden movements. 

She held out the box. "Merry Chri--"

"Aaaagh--!!" The Servant yelled, snatching the object. It seemed to register that she was giving him something, thank goodness. She was just glad that he didn't see the present as a weapon. He held the box, his heavily armored fingers picking and prodding at the wrapping with little avail, only really scratching up the job she had done to wrap the gift in the first place. She- very carefully- idled over to him, pulling at the bow as it drifted off the box, and lifted the lid for him. Several wooden slabs with slots of varying sizes were stacked up in the box, the finished product not entirely clear. The Berserker tilted his head. "Rrr...?"

"It's a weapon rack. Since you enjoy, um, 'borrowing' the weapons that people drop during singularities." She explained, although she felt it was a moot point. "Obviously we need to construct it, but Senpai and I thought it'd be better than just having random swords littered all over the place." 

She waited for the man to grunt and scurry off, maybe dropping the box in the process and leaving her and her Senpai to do the assembling- and eventually have it go unused. Strangely enough, she was wrong. The large knight squatted down, his heavy armor clattering as he sat in a squat with the box, picking out various pieces and inspecting them. She watched as he 'assembled' it, the object obviously not staying together without nails, but he seemed to at least get the general shape of the rack. After he had put it together, he watched as it clattered into a pile of wood once he removed his hands from supporting it, letting out a dissatisfied grunt.

"It needs screws, Sir Lancelot." Mash said, simply. The Berserker stood up, staring down at the pile of wooden slabs, then to Mash, then back to the pile, then once more to Mash. She knelt down, beginning to pick up the mess the Servant had made before she felt a heavy, armored hand resting on top of her head.

"Mer... ci... Gala... had..." Lancelot grumbled.

She found herself speechless for a moment, quickly standing back up stiffly. "Sir Lancelot, I'm not--" Before she could finish, one of the Berserker's arms awkwardly draped around her, pulling her close. Her head lightly bounced against his breastplate as the two of them stood in an awkward silence for a moment, before she realized:

'Ah, he's hugging me'.

She let him stay there for a moment, letting the awkward embrace last as long as the Berserker needed it to, before he finally let go, looking away. She hadn't realized that his eyes had been a bit more clear for a moment, though as soon as he let go they returned to their glazed over, feral state. The black knight hunched over, picking up the box.

"No...ël..." Lancelot muttered, before picking up the rest of the pieces and lumbering off. He was as hard to read as ever, but she liked to think he was pleased.

She stood quietly in the hall for a moment, before letting out a bit of an exasperated chuckle. 

"Fine. One down... one to go."

Strangely enough, she was feeling that the 'Berserker' was probably going to be the easiest of the two.


	2. A Gift for a Saber

After searching around Chaldea for Sir Lancelot, she eventually managed to figure it out. Da Vinci said that he had Rayshifted to Orleans, and gave her the coordinates.

"Of course he just goes where he pleases..." She muttered as Da Vinci prepped the Rayshift protocol, giving her a wink in the process. Before she could process just what that meant, she found herself in the green fields of France. After some walking, she finally found him, staring wistfully at the surface of a glistening, undisturbed lake.

She held out a box as he turned around to face her, the knight having heard her carefully approach. The box was much, much smaller than the one she had given Berserker.

An indescribable feeling seemed to well up in Mash as Lancelot's eyes lit up as soon as she offered the present to him. Somewhere between 'abject disgust' and 'intense pity'. Not the sort of pity she felt for the Berserker Lancelot, but the sort of pity someone felt when they saw an old man drinking alone in a bar on a holiday. The pity that revolved around 'oh no, this person has absolutely nothing and they're wasting their life away'. 

Still, she remembered that she was giving a gift, and that she could behave herself at the very least. "Here you are, Sir Lancelot."

"A rock?" Sir Lancelot asked, opening up the present box.

"A whetstone." Mash corrected. "For your sword."

"...Ah." He said. He took it out of the box, looking it over. "I see, I see. Thank you very much, Mash."

Did she find a sturdy looking, vaguely rectangular rock that she attached to a piece of wood that was used for Berserker's weapon rack? Yes. Was it still technically a whetstone? Also yes. It was also a fairly useless gift, considering that Arondight's specific properties involved both never breaking and never dulling. But it was one of those things were the thought was what truly counted, right? 

He put in back in the box. "I'll... um, treasure it for the rest of my life?" He tried. She shook her head. He was already dead, so that didn't mean much. "I'll use it every day?" He attempted again, which resulted in her screwing her nose up a bit. Eventually that'd just turn using it into some sort of tedious task. Lancelot sighed. "...Thank you very much, Mash." He repeated again, which was enough for her. Sir Lancelot tried too hard at points. He reached out tentatively, awkwardly patting her on the head before wrapping one armored arm around her, pulling her in close so that her head lightly bounced against his breastplate. The situation seemed... oddly familiar.

She had previously thought that his Berserker's awkward way of showing affection had to do with the Madness Enhancement, but the answer was incredibly clear now:

Sir Lancelot, no matter the class, just had absolutely no idea how to show physical affection to Galahad- and by extension, Mash. 

The two of them stood for what seemed like an eternity, neither one of them seeming to particularly enjoy the hug, but Lancelot was simply doing what he thought was appropriate, and she didn't want to be the one to rain on his parade too much this Christmas. Eventually she pried herself away from him, turning to the lake that he had been staring out over. 

"So... what are you doing? You know Rayshifting without permission isn't allowed." She asked, and lightly scolded. He cleared his throat.

"I got permission." He retorted. "Lady Da Vinci said it would be fine if I spent my time here for a bit." He sat down, staring out over the clear blue waters. "I wasn't raised in Orleans, and this lake is far from the crystalline waters of the fae-tinged pools in Beaufort-en-Vallée, but it does it's job in rearing up nostalgia." He smiled softly, a peaceful expression that she genuinely didn't recognize. She was sure Galahad didn't recognize it either. The Grail Knight had met his father in the throws of his affair with Queen Guinevere, his eyes always clouded by guilt. The Lancelot du Lac of before, the one that garnered the praises of the masses and was worthy of song upon song in tavern was a knight Galahad was unfamiliar with, and Mash only read stories about.

He patted the ground next to him. "Please sit, Mash. If Master needs us, then Lady Da Vinci can contact us." He said, his reasoning sound. She sighed, crossing her legs as she plopped down next to him, zipping up her her jacket a bit and adjusting her glasses. The two of them sat in relative silence, just admiring the scenery for what it was worth. She supposed she hadn't really taken a chance to admire Orleans. It was her first major Singularity after all- so she and her Senpai spent most of the time scrambling away from enemy Servants, zombies, and dragons. But the French countryside, now that she had a chance to take it in, truly was beautiful.

The weather was far from 'Christmas-y', with no chill in the air outside of the occasional breeze, and the sun beating down heavily on them both. But in a way, she didn't mind. They were both comfortable, neither of them trying to force anything that didn't need to be forced.

"...Merry Christmas, Father." She finally said, after a long bout of silence. 

"--!!" Came a sharp intake of air next to her. She swore she could practically hear Lancelot's heart pounding in his chest, another long bout of silence. She gave him a minute to catch his breath and make sure his soul didn't completely leave his body.

"...Merry Christmas to you as well, Mash." He finally managed to choke out.

She found herself smiling, despite herself. Perhaps spending time with loved ones during the holidays was a bit of a stretch, but she supposed spending time with someone like Sir Lancelot wasn't too bad either, now that she thought about it.

Right. This wasn't too bad at all.


End file.
